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Ro’s having the same realization. She looks at her left hand with narrowed eyes. A burn was there before. Now, it’s smooth, perfect skin.
“Are we invisible?” she whispers, and since she’s pressed against me, I can feel her fast heartbeat as her fear increases.
“Something like that.”
“What if… What if we’re not just invisible? What if we’re ghosts? Maybe in the future… we’re dead.”
“No,” I respond automatically, not allowing it as a possibility. “This is just part of the challenge.”
It has to be.
It makes sense that Armand wouldn’t want us to talk to people because then they could help us.
The nobles are about to be let in. They’ve handed over their personal invites, and Alosi is opening the doors for them.
If we try to go through a solid barrier, will we be able to?
I glance at our feet. We’re walking on the stone, so obviously, we can touch the ground. Stomping my boots, I try to generate some sound. I don’t make any thuds as I would expect, which is strange.
Not wanting to take any chances that we might be locked out of the palace, I say, “Come on. We’ll slip in behind the family.”
Ro and I go forward, and after we’ve successfully made it inside, the staff members in the foyer greet the guests with trays of appetizers and glasses of wine.
The teenage girls partake in the refreshments, and right before they go into the ballroom, they’re offered headbands with glittery bug-like antennas bobbing on springy extensions.
When the doors of the great hall open, there’s a face painter with a line formed at their station. Behind them, a balloon artist is making a pink butterfly with quick, squeaky movements.
Very child-like.
Whoever is being celebrated today must be young.
Staying close to the nobles who are basically acting as our battering ram, Ro and I shuffle into a very packed ballroom.
In the middle of the huge space, the area that’s usually open for dancing is occupied by an unbelievably long banquet table. There are probably enough chairs and place settings to accommodate at least two hundred people.
Along the wall to our right, there’s another table that stretches all the way to the kitchen door at the back, and wrapped gifts are placed on it.
The nobles we followed pull a few small packages from their pockets and put them with the rest of the presents. Then they join the clusters of guests standing near the French doors that are open to the night, letting in air and giving them a view of the gardens.
I glance over my shoulder at the door we just came through. It’s shut now. Just to experiment, I try to open it.
Confoundingly, I can grasp the knob, but my efforts to turn it do nothing. Running my flattened hand against the wooden surface, I lightly tap my fingers.
No sound is made.
I get the same results with the wall next to it. I can touch it, but I can’t affect it in any way. Even pounding on it with my fist produces silence.
After getting a dagger from my belt, I drag the tip of it along the wall. Not even the faintest scratch is left behind.
Like my shadow, Ro hovers as I continue testing my boundaries.
A caterer glides by me with a tray of mini butterscotch pies.
When I try to pluck one up, my fingers go through the food like it’s air.
Shifting my eyes to Ro, I make my conclusion. “It seems we can only touch inanimate objects, but we can’t manipulate them. Anything that moves is off limits to us.”
“Like ghosts,” Ro says again, anxious.
